


Übergrippen

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [14]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Honk if you love lizards, I'm sorry but max/sanity is a very problematic ship full of pining, Implied Magic Max, Lizards everywhere, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, Podfic Welcome, The Lizards might be metaphorical, and h/c and unresolved tension but we can't help trying to write it, everywhere, getting increasingly weirder, leaving it up to the reader, subtly implied unnamed background Slit cameo, throws down the gauntlet for podficcers, weird sex metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4680335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Übergrippen: The intense feeling of relief when finding a jug or good handhold after a difficult Crux</i>
</p><p> </p><p> “So, if we’re heading back to the Citadel, and you’re all crew now or, something? For the Boss, I mean. Don’t look at me like that, she gave you that scarf. So if we’re heading back I really think I need to tell you something.” Austeyr gave the feral a very intense look, measuring him careful. “I don’t think she’d have time to explain all the past-like things you’d need to know,” Austeyr continued, “And this is very important. She’d want you to know, I think. Being crew, you gotta know how we go about our off-hours...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Übergrippen

**Author's Note:**

> "Man, the last few stories have been so heavy, we should throw in something lighter" said I. Then during one of our late night/morning writing sessions Bonehandledknife pounded this out, and I pretty much have not stopped giggling about it since.  
> It's a bit out of tone with what comes before and after, but whatever, that's why this is a series and not a chaptered story. WE DO WHAT WE WANT

**Shock** :

It was maybe only early morning when Austeyr couldn’t take it anymore and started talking to break up the silence.

“So, if we’re heading back to the Citadel, and you’re all crew now or, something? For the Boss, I mean. Don’t look at me like that, she gave you that scarf. So if we’re heading back I really think I need to tell you something.” He gave the feral a very intense look, measuring him careful.

“Mmnngh?” An uncertain sound floated over to him, but the man’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, jaw tight, shoulders stiff.

“I don’t think she’d have time to explain all the past-like things you’d need to know,” Austeyr continued, “And this is very important. She’d want you to know, I think.”

That finally caught Max’s attention and he half-turned his face towards him, keeping an eye on where they were going which was good because Austeyr himself is not even trying anymore. He gave a firm nod to himself, because he’s pretty much completely sure this is how they decide if to trust a new guy; Austeyr was not the newest of crew but he’s not in a leadership position and may never be at the rate his tumors are going, but his observations are pretty consistent. He can always guess which War Boys end up being crew and which become forgotten by the way they react to a very simple thing. And Austeyr liked this feral, even if he seems war-shocked and Wasteland-odd, and wanted to help the guy out. Integrate him into being crew faster, trusted sooner.

‘Cause who knew what strange habits he’d picked up out there in the desert; might come into the thing with odd notions, weird all the others out, might even embarrass the Boss, and he can’t have that.

So Austeyr started asking careful and slow:

“Being crew, you gotta know how we go about our off-hours. I mean it’s entertain too, don’t get me wrong; an’ shiny entertain with the way the Boss watches us.” He faltered slightly at the feral’s sudden attention, as Max seemed to expand somehow, become threatening and bulky and Austeyr suddenly felt intimidated despite his height advantage and despite the bike in-between them and despite the accord they’ve reached earlier. He fanged it despite his nervousness, “How much do you know about—” He can’t help but glance around him. It wasn’t a thing that much made sense outside the Citadel.

Perhaps it didn’t even make sense _within_ the Citadel, the other crews certainly looked at them strange for it. Wasn't like a lot of them weren't doing it too, just not so much as a crew bonding activity and with their Imperator involved.

“About?”

Austeyr gulped and stared over at the horizon determinedly, and said, “About lizard racing.”

The feral seemed to trip over nothing.

_Huh._

Strange guy.

 

* * *

 

 **Denial** :

“ _Lizard racing.”_

Austeyr nodded like it was the most important thing he must know. Max squinted and couldn't tell if the War Boy was nodding a little extra hard in sarcasm or if that’s just how the other man was.

“Lizard… racing?”

“Do you even know how to pick a good lizard?” Austeyr questioned him intently, “How to look at their thighs and test for spoingyness? Their forearm musculature and fast twitch muscles? Finger dexterity?”

Max… is not quite sure if he’s speaking in euphemism… and if he is, then what to think of War Boys sex lives. He’s half a second from rolling his eyes like he did at that Toast girl. He tested cautiously, “Hhmmm, like the lizards with two heads?”

He'd met a guy like that back on… he wasn't sure. He'd met a guy once who had bragged about his two functional heads. Three if you counted his actual head. Maybe there were Warboys like that.

“No!” the War Boy reared back, “Those are the worst! The second head get distracted so easy! You want a single head. And when you pick them up they should circle their arms like this.”

And then he demonstrated while Max tried not to let the bike fall over with Austeyr suddenly letting go of the handle. Max squinted.

(In another lifetime, another world, Max may have described the War Boy’s gestures as “Wax On, Wax Off”, with fingers spread like Jazz Hands, hips swinging side to side in a counter-balanced shimmy.

In that world, there’d be burgers and enough gas for endless trips and maybe no need to be prepared to kill most people he meets— But in that world, Austeyr would still probably be racing lizards.

Or dancing.)

“With that sort of body torque I just demo’d? Racers are more effective that way, not the ones that claw straight forward,” and then he demonstrated this motion too. (Max’s eyebrows have long since bumped up against the furrows on his forehead and neither could agree to what’s happening.) “And you want ones with big fingertips!” Austeyr thrust his thumb in Max’s face and then bobbed it like he was nodding with his thumb alone. “For better grip.”

“And this is… important.” Max hazarded.

“YES.” The War Boy subsides a little, thoughtful, “The best racers aren’t necessarily even the tastiest though; they’re kinda bony and hard? I mean you _think_ they’ll be all shine but then you put it in your mouth and you’re just kinda disappointed.”

Max twitched and waited for Austeyr to point at him and laugh at the joke.

It never came.

 

* * *

 

 **Anger** :

“See, it’s a thing crew does, when we’re in-between runs. ‘S how you can tell if you’re good with the crew, good with the Boss, if you get invited, then reinvited to these things.” Austeyr nods as if to himself, “Sometimes you get poor losers and, well, they don’t last long. Premature, you might say. Boss decides if there's an equal finish, based on determination of the lizards raced and sometimes on style.”

Max feels his face screw up even more small and pinched.

"Furiosa... races lizards?" That.. doesn't sound like her. Not like the Furiosa in this world, who wouldn’t have the time to play with her food.

"Of course not," Aus snorts. Max nods a little relieved, because, well, of course she doesn't. "She cheers and referees."

He feels very glad he isn’t eating or drinking anything.

“Well, the official contests. Sometimes we have prelims, give them obstacles to give her only the best show, you know? Make sure the lizards are shimmying all proper and oiled up nice.”

 _No,_ Max doesn’t know. About anything whatsoever. He’s still unsure this isn't a strange sex metaphor. He feels like he doesn't know anything at all, right now, about anything or anyone. Least of all a Furiosa who watches lizard contests; he’s not sure if it would make more sense for her to cheer on dancing, oiled up War Boys (and that's just the best case interpretation..) or to cheer on escaping oiled up food. (Why would you oil up a _lizard_?) And if it was dancing... does… does Austeyr expect him to dance as well? Is that what this is about? He knows he has no rhythm. But when he shakes his head, Austeyr seems to take that as encouragement to go on.

“Mmm, sometimes she catches us at it when we race them across the top of the War Rig. Peeves her off like nothing else, lizard prints on the windshield, y’know. But it's extra fun on the hot rig, some of 'em slow right down but the best ones get faster.”

Max hopes this is actually about lizards, he really does.

“I mean sometimes we try it when moving?” the lancer’s voice went thoughtful, “She got real mad though when she caught us. Stomped her brakes real hard one time when she caught sight in the rearview when we were riding a calm stretch and all our lizards went _flying_.”

He gave the longest sigh, “Was a good batch of racers too, and then she had us clean off all the sun-baked lizard guts and repaint the entire Rig when we got back. _While_ the Repair Boys watched.”

(...Max _really_ hopes it’s not a metaphor.)

 

* * *

 

 **Bargaining** :

“Would I… um.” The Wastelander looked around, here and there, “Need to, hmm..  race my own?”

Austeyr blinked, “You could? Most get ours from the cages behind the mess. That’s why picking is so important.” But he has to grimace, “Sometimes nearly the whole batch is a loss. This one time a War Boy got it in his head to free climb up the side of the mess hall and then try to catch the Boss’ eye.”

“Ehh?” Max hummed, and Austeyr’s pretty sure he’s got the hang of this now, that one meant, ‘ _why would a shithead do a thing like that?’_

“I know right? I mean Furiosa’s crew’s the best of the best and everyone’s always trying to get her attention but why you go interrupting a meal or an honest race? Even worse?” Austeyr paused to make sure the man was listening and he’s sure the Wastelander must be riveted because this was _food_ they were talking about here, “Even worse, the guy’s grip slipped and he fell right into the pens!”

Max made a pained sound, “That a metaphor?”

“Yeah, no. Legit! Smushed meat, all over the guy, lizards tasted like paint for the next little while, I tell you. If I’d wanted a mouthful of paint there’s more fun ways to do it.”

There was an ‘ahah!’ expression on Max’s face and his confusion seemed to only grow more concerned. And then he rolled his eyes. Austeyr hazarded that one meant, ‘ _so the pens are sometimes unreliable because of shitheads but why waste food when it’s just an honest bit of paint?_ ’

"...and I'm.. mm, expected to join in with these… 'races'?"

“It would be polite to join in somehow if you were asked, don’tcha think? Good for crew bonding." Austeyr nodded. “Maybe just sit by the Imperator first and spectate? Careful though, she gets intense. Quite loud when it gets excitin'.”

 

* * *

 

 **Guilt** :

“I think. Um. It’s been quite awhile since,” Max squirmed, “I’ve… done anything but eat a— lizard? Um. Never raced?”

"That's okay, we'll help ya prepare," Austeyr just beamed at him, “War Boys are always willing to lend a hand.”

“I think I’ll be fine going it alone.”

“Sure?”

"I'm...sure.."

 

* * *

 

 **Depression** :

Max does not think he wants to fit himself into tight black pants but it’s increasingly looking like a possibility.

Maybe he should just… bring Austeyr to the Citadel and leave right away. Stay well out of this 'lizard' business.

 

* * *

 

 **Acceptance** :

“YOU THOUGHT I WAS TALKIN' ABOUT TRADIN' PAINT?”

“Mmngh.”

"I mean we do that too, but not like a RACE."

“...?!”

"I mean she would actually murder us if we did THAT on the War Rig. And V8, what did you THINK I was talking about when I mentioned lizard guts? No—" he held up a hand, "don't tell me. Better not knowing."

Man, this Wastelander was _filthy_. He'd known the Wasteland did things to a man, but urgh…   _Ferals_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- The Seven Stages of Grief: Shock or Disbelief, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Guilt, Depression, Acceptance and Hope
> 
> \- [Magic Max](http://bonehandledknife.tumblr.com/post/121558665780/roguewarboy-chromedandshiny)
> 
> \- [Regarding his scarf](http://bonehandledknife.tumblr.com/post/122825479780/for-everyone-else-at-the-citadel-the-body-is-a)
> 
> \- [Man with 2 penis](https://www.reddit.com/r/WTF/comments/1u3rj2/man_with_2_penises/) (links at that link are nsfw). Apparently they're both functional and he has both a boyfriend and a girlfriend but idk if the relationship's poly
> 
> \- regarding [trading paint](http://bassfanimation.tumblr.com/post/125106168821/youkaiyume-did-someone-say-trading-paint-i)
> 
> \- [lizard/slit](http://kotteri000.tumblr.com/post/127724087879/lick-bro) says Austeyr is wrong about it being weirder out in the Wasteland
> 
> \- Austeyr is the Australian version of the Steyr rifle and [pronounced like STY-er](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQlu5zRSpJE).


End file.
